


Dust & Roses

by joycestick



Category: RWBY
Genre: Adults, Alternate Universe - Societal Upheaval, Government Negligence, Pre-Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:21:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25801258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joycestick/pseuds/joycestick
Summary: Amidst a near-omnipresent sense of disaster and deflation, as deaths caused by the Grimm have slowly become a fact of life, young washed-up prodigy weapons engineer Ruby Rose is approached by a mysterious character with dubious affiliations.
Kudos: 6





	1. The Anarchist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll probably change the title later. Well, I might change everything later. Hell, I might even delete the story later. who knows
> 
> This story's loosely inspired by hbomberguy's recent video criticizing RWBY, during which he at one point suggested that the show ought to have incorporated Ruby's passion for weapons into the plot and her characterization more than it did. (but the writers forgot blablabla)
> 
> I only wrote this for fun, though. I have no idea if I'll continue it.

The door swung to and fro before settling, warped, loose, and disheveled, in a slightly ajar position, betraying its dire need of repairs. The lights of the store, which I’d been just about to turn off, flickered, briefly shrouding the woman’s masked face in solid dark. She reached for a snack, a chocolate flavored Schnee Dust Bar™, with her free hand— casually shoplifting in plain view of the security cameras, and the only employee of this creaky convenience store to preside over its inconveniently starved stock.

The speakers blared on, uninterrupted.

_“And tonight, as the rampant Grimm infestation continues to claim lives across Eastern Vale and beyond, Huntsmen agencies once again find their forces spread too thin to contain the chaos…”_

I was barely paying attention to the television, considering the gun being applied to my head at that particular moment.

The mechanical arm of the young masked woman at the counter was exposed at the end of one of two long sleeves on a dark amber cotton jacket. It firmly gripped a pistol, leveled it against my temple with a cold, unique precision and inhuman stillness that felt implausible, rehearsed, yet personal, gentle, familiar. The robust, practiced feel of her aim felt almost like my mother’s aim, how she used to hold my weapon during our training. Before…

Taking a breath, I put that memory out of my mind.

“Do I know you from somewhere?”

“Sweetheart,” the woman laughed, parting her long, thick, hair, colored a rich sunflower yellow, “of course I know you.” She effortlessly unwrapped the dust bar, and ate it— in spite of its gross, unappealing, artificially processed taste.

I tilted my head curiously, trying to get a better look at the robber’s face beneath her honey-hued speckled bandanna. “You do?”

“Oh, golly indeed. Insofar as I know all of you fine creative types,” the honey-masked, sunflower-haired bandit replied. “You all, all of you, y’all got your big dreams, the things you dreamed of building, those ol’ swell inventions you envisioned in your cute little heads, back when you had the makings of a prodigy.” She laughed a cold, dry, bemusedly tragic laugh, before refitting the barrel of the pistol onto my head.

“They squish it out, your talents, your aspirations, slowly coax you into the role of a gear in the machine, when you’re so young. Don’t they dear?” Reminding me, with the contact of her light violet eyes, to go on and play my role in this encounter.

I shook my head as my hands motioned for the register.

“I wouldn’t say so,” I replied, smiling nervously. “I took up this job by choice, actually. Before then, I tried a lot of… creative things.”

The bandit cocked her head backwards with intrigue, as she swallowed a bite of the dust bar. “Oh, did you now?”

“Yes.” Somehow— perhaps I was just tired, or bored, or lonely from a long day of slow business— I decided to humor the woman. “In fact, I was an inventor myself.”

 _“Were_ you now?” She feigned surprise.

“I was, yes.” I didn’t know why I said that. The robber was remarkably easy to talk to.

Though I could not see her face beneath the honey-speckled mask, it was clear that my robber was intrigued. “So, my associate—”

“If you’re employed, why are you robbing me?”

“Hun, you know how the market is these days. Which is why I've been scouting a creator at the moment. Gone out in the world, I have, searched high and low all across Remnant, for a genius.”

“Oh?”

She lowered her mask, to reveal a pleased grin. “A genius such as yourself, _Miss Rose.”_

I froze.

My fingers trembled, as I turned to face her.

“Silver eyes, I see. The mark of a great talent if ever there were one. Miss Rose… no, if I may. Ruby?”

“I don’t 'create' things anymore,” I said forcefully to the woman, as my left hand crawled across my convenience store uniform, over my back, and towards my hip. “I’m done inventing, ma’am. You’ll have to seek another _‘talent.’”_

“Oh? And why’s that?”

“If you please, do finish your robbery,” I insisted. “I’ve been instructed by the manager to give thieves like you their cash, and report the crime after the fact. It’s not my money, and I still get my paycheck either way, so I hardly care.” My fingers closed around the handle, and I, noticing the sunflower woman’s sustained apprehension, continued: “If you’d kindly help us both get on with finishing step one, I’ll graciously skip step two. Hell, I’ll even throw you a bone and wipe the security footage.”

“That won’t help me none, darling. For you see—”

_“...all four of the Kingdom Councils continued to decline comment on if there will be further funding allocated to our brave Huntsmen fighting on the front lines of this crisis.”_

The sunflower woman turned her attention towards the television.

“Well, of course they have…”

Consuming the remainder of her dust bar, she lowered her pistol and walked away from the front counter, now taking a sudden interest in the news.

“Yeah… huh…” I giggled nervously. Recent events in Remnant, and the slow actions of our councils in particular, had definitely been stressing me out lately.

 _“Following up on last week’s report,”_ the newscaster continued, _“the dangerous career anarchist, Yang Xiao Long, and her co-conspirator Roman Torchwick, remain at large following their high-profile escape from a high security Atleasean prison.”_

 _“‘Anarchist.’”_ The woman, seeming annoyed, spit derisively. “They don’t have a damn clue what that word actually means.”

Mugshots of the two fugitives were displayed. Torchwick, a dapper young man with bright orange hair and a tasteless white suit, and Yang Xiao Long—

“Yang Xiao Long.”

Yang Xiao Long turned to face me, smiling as she tossed the honey-speckled bandanna to the floor. She seemed to have lost all interest in the store robbery; the whole thing had seemingly been a farce from the beginning.

_“Yang Xiao Long, wanted dead or alive, for a reward of six million Lien. Roman Torchwick, wanted dead or alive, for a reward of ten million Lien.”_

“And of course,” Yang Xiao Long said in a semi-bitter tone, “the man is worth more than me.”

“Who, the Torchwick guy?”

“My... partner.” She blinked. “Of a sort. We have a... heated, working relationship. Disputes here and there, but for the time being, we're in agreement over our goal.”

“I see.”

“He and I, we’re tired of the councils. We’re tired of the governments. The only way we can see the Grimm exterminated once and for all, to see peace, is to set the geniuses free. Geniuses like you, Ruby Rose.”

It wasn’t an offer.

“I see. Well, I’m afraid I’m not interested, Xiao Long. Like I said. I don’t invent anymore. Not after…” I swallowed. “And if you don’t leave this store at once…”

My hands shook as I lifted them from my hips, and Crescent Rose slowly unfolded.

“My invention is very deadly, Xiao Long. I-It kills… easily. And I would prefer to bring you in alive. If you have any sense, I would advise that you choose to **not** become Crescent Rose’s second victim.”

Grimacing with something approximating menace as I said this, I gingerly leveled the bright rose red mechanical scythe in the face of the fugitive, trying to conceal my fear as it quivered within my uncertain, shaky grasp. In a flimsy effort to show that I meant it, I loaded a magazine into Crescent Rose’s ammunition chamber posthaste.

Yang Xiao Long smirked, and threw aside her pistol, it clattering forgotten in the corner. She then unfurled the long sleeves of her jacket, revealing her true weapon: a pair of metal bracelets, that were now collapsing to take the shape of mechanical pump action gauntlets.

“I’d be honored to risk a dance with your Crescent, Ruby Rose.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. You might remember me from my old Persona fanfictions, that I deleted. My name's Joyce now. I also write other things... sometimes, and have a [YouTube channel](https://www.youtube.com/joycestick) where I post video essays about anime and things. If you'd like to keep updated on whatever I'm up to and what other things I'm making, you can follow me on [my Twitter @joyceestick](https://twitter.com/joyceestick)


	2. Semblance of Regret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried my best to write the fight in an interesting way.

_“If you see any sign of Xiao Long or Torchwick, do not engage. Seek shelter and contact the nearest Huntsman agency at once.”_

“If they do that, how in the name of Oz is anyone meant to collect that cool six million on my head?” I wondered aloud. Not also mentioning how inexcusable I found it that they would find such an enormous sum of money to reward my capture, but not to pay their Huntsmen. Or save lives.

Glaring eagerly at the silver eyes of Ruby Rose, I assumed a fighter’s stance and raised my fists into a defensive position. My Ember Celica, affixed to my left arm, cycled through its cascading forms within mere moments. The bullet chamber encircled my wrist, making about two or three revolutions as it warmed up and autoloaded. My right arm entered a similar preparation phase, preloading the built-in shotgun chamber with the Dust ammunition stored within.

I wasn’t quite used to the replacement arm yet— it was bulky, foreign, and I hadn’t had quite as much time to train with it as I’d have liked before being sent on this mission. But for dispatching and capturing Ruby Rose, I was sure that my current degree of training would suffice.

The prematurely retired inventor was clearly shaken by the prospect of a fight, but it was hard to tell if her unease was because she was afraid of losing, or— as she had claimed —of winning, at the expense of my death.

I had heard quite a lot about the Crescent Rose, such a uniquely lethal shredder for a trainee Huntress’s beginning kit. The ruthless, brutal efficiency of its combination blade and bullet action. The devastating, violent recoil, the harsh impact of its front end. The wondrous, flexible movements of a skilled user of the thing, the small miracle of such a fighter somehow managing to not disembowel themselves as the Crescent’s blade revolved around their figure at implausible speeds.

“Most professional Huntsmen currently working would slice themselves into about seven different pieces within seconds of picking that thing up,” I informed its designer. “It’s no wonder they can’t contain the Grimm. Why would you, sweetheart, with such talent and power and finesse as you have, work _here_ , rather than join the troops where all that potential could shine?”

Ruby Rose held the Crescent horizontally, its blade seated by its sharp end on the floor besides her.

“This job pays. But being a Huntsman these days?” she scowled. “The only paycheck worth anything in that now, is a badge of honor. Your name on a wall. If even that.”

Hmm. That wasn’t the answer I had expected. Ruby Rose didn’t much strike me as the type to care terribly about money.

Nevertheless, I nodded in understanding. “Yeah, I got it. They want to celebrate you, but they don’t wanna respect you.”

“You talk like you know.”

“I do know.” I relaxed my arms and paced to the left, encircling Ruby as I kicked over the nearest store shelves to make some room for our scuffle. All the while, we maintained eye contact. “I was trained at Beacon. Well, for a short time. Didn’t work out. But I still fought, cause well, they needed the arms, and don’t ya know it, who has arms but little old me?” I clenched my right fist. “Even now… after all that…”

I huffed.

It slowly dawned on Ruby just what I was saying, and her eyes spelled shock.

“Yang Xiao Long… you… _you_ were a Huntress?”

Kicking aside more of the furnishings, I fished a frozen treat out of the cheap freezer and continued to make my way to the back of the store.

“Of course I was a Huntress. It’s really not that hard to be one anymore.” I stretched my arms above my head and cracked my fists, beginning to tire of our pre-fight chat. “And they’ve got no room for folks like me who do the job too well. Cleaning up so nice, that the reality they’ve been selling… well, you know. No power without a state, and no state without a threat. You know what I mean?”

I kicked aside another shelf, much more forcefully this time. The impact of my kick created a small shockwave, and, capitalizing on the momentum, I used the store shelf as a springboard to send myself flying, fist-first, towards Ruby Rose.

* * *

Hearing Xiao Long speak so ill of her time as a Huntress, I thought back to my Uncle Qrow as she hurled herself towards me, and time slowed to a crawl.

_“But you’re the best Huntsman in Remnant!”_

_“Me? Hah, no.”_ He’d sneered at me so dismissively that day. _“If I’m the best, Pipsqueak? Our ‘last line of defense,’ or whatever it is they say. You’re in for a load of trouble to come.”_

_“Ruuuuuuu-”_

Comically slow, Yang Xiao Long’s shout.

I took a careful step to the side, and had a good look at my opponent in profile.

Having been reminded of her past as a Huntress, her eyes were full of the same cold, tired weariness and exhausted frustration that Uncle Qrow had shown me back then.

_“Don’t become one of us, kiddo. There ain’t no glory in it anymore.”_

Of course _he’d_ say that, though. His glory days were over.

Someone as young as Yang Xiao Long? Her echoing my uncle’s sentiment, that was a different story.

“What should I do…” I murmured, as the fugitive held suspended in midair, slowly falling through the arc of her pounce towards where I had been standing, as if sinking through water. “To you?”

_“uuuuuuuuuuuuu…”_

The fraction of a syllable that Xiao Long was shouting at me, faded into the ether, barely heard as I put aside my thoughts of how undesirable the profession of Huntsman had become.

If it were _only_ that, I would have become a Huntsman even in spite of what it had done to Uncle Qrow. I didn’t need glory; hell, I didn’t even need a decent week’s pay. I simply enjoyed the thrill of the fight. The exhilarating rush of using my Semblance for the first time in years almost now made me want to return to the fold; slicing up Grimm aplenty with Crescent Rose.

_No. Don’t think about Crescent Rose._

If I could bring this fight to a close without its blade so much as grazing Xiao Long, that would be for the best.

I kicked off of the ground and floated in the air above Xiao Long like a moonwalker. Petals flurried about my buoying torso and light feet. The best part of using my Semblance. The fluidity, the irrelevance of gravity, the pickpocketing.

I took Xiao Long’s weapon to pieces, whisked her ammunition from its chamber within a fraction of an instant, and just as quickly replaced each of the parts I had removed. Sensing that I was approaching the start of Petal Burst’s cooldown timer, I dashed over to the fridge, snatched a beer bottle from within, threw it toward Xiao Long’s face, and then aimed a careful kick straight for her midsection.

“Sweet dreams, Yang Xiao Long,” I hissed, prepared for the surprise of my Semblance to catch her off guard.

* * *

_“Ru-”_

I could scarcely react before the young inventor literally vanished from my reach, leaving only a flurry of rose petals in her wake.

_“-by!”_

_CRASH!_

_THWACK_

_SHHICK_

_SMASH_

**_“OUCH!”_ **

In the span of about a second, I was assaulted from every conceivable angle. A glass bottle, seemingly having teleported inches away, shattered in my face, and the scent and taste of alcohol polluted my senses. Barely a millisecond later, Ruby Rose’s red heels collided with my abdomen, and I was sent flying at high speed in the direction of the open door of a drink refrigerator.

Dozens more bottles and cans fell onto my face, cracking, shattering and denting, spilling an assortment of drinks (mostly beer) onto my pretty yellow hair.

“H-How… did you do that?”

Ruby Rose materialized before me, looking exhilarated.

“Sorry. I’m a bit slower on the uptick today. Out of practice and all.”

Oh. Right. Her Semblance.

No one knew what Ruby Rose’s Semblance was, but everyone knew it was a big deal. It was an exceptionally rare power, that much was common knowledge. But excepting those who had fought Ruby or her mother, no one knew for sure what it was— and given Summer Rose’s untimely death a few years back, and my being the first person to fight Ruby in a short while, those accounts had faded into legend.

Things become “legend” rather fast in this day and age.

Some Semblances were fairly common, like mine. Others, such as the secret Schnee family Semblance, or the one inherited by Ruby Rose, were far less common and difficult to acquire unless you either happened to come from a family with it— or were willing to dabble in some genetic fuckery. And I was neither.

I prepared to prime Ember Celica’s Dust charge, but heard nothing but the click of an empty chamber. Right away, I realized what she had done.

“So that’s your Semblance,” I realized, raising my head slowly towards Ruby as the cans and bottles clattered to the floor. Shaking beer off of my face, I stood up, composed myself, and grinned. “Got any other tricks up your sleeve, Little Miss Sonic Rose?”

* * *

It would be a couple more minutes before my Semblance recharged, and Xiao Long had hardly been phased by my attack.

I began spinning Crescent Rose in a horizontally aligned three hundred and sixty degree arc around my body, nimbly slipping between the handle and the blade as I watched Xiao Long rise.

_WHOOSH_

She was fast. But even without using my Semblance, I was just a sliver faster. I changed the angle of Crescent Rose’s arc by about thirty degrees or so, and used its blade to scoop up Xiao Long like a tasty fish leaping from a pond. The impact didn’t seem to injure her too much, what with the familiar glowing pulse of Aura enveloping her body as she was sent crashing out of the window.

* * *

The impact rattled my bones, but it was dull and calming, like the beat of a drum. I caught the ground beneath me and spun my feet above in a classic break-dancing motion, before kicking off of the ground and hurtling back into the store.

Before I could re-enter, however, Ruby Rose sped outside and fired a bolt out of her Crescent, and the recoil launched her upwards towards the roof. I was knocked to the ground once again, and this time I didn’t bother catching myself.

 _“Surrender, Xiao Long!”_ Ruby called from her precarious position atop the crumbling fire escape. “I’m not afraid to use lethal rounds!”

I rose to my knees, faking like I was actually hurt. “Then just you try it, Ruby Rose!”

I stood, wound up my arm like a baseball pitcher, and catapulted myself into the base of the fire escape.

* * *

_SNAP_

The metal stairs crumbled beneath my feet, and I instinctively activated Petal Burst once again, hurling myself towards Xiao Long with all the speed of a cheetah and force of a bulldozer. I paused a moment in motion to take in her expression.

She was _smirking._

I held my position in midair a moment, nearly inert as the pull of the earth was slow to react. Was she planning something? Or just enjoying the fight?

I didn’t know, but my speed was wearing thin, and I’d have to get back down to level ground soon. I hurled my fists into Xiao Long’s stomach, and the both of us tumbled and crashed into the adjacent dead-end street.

_CRACK_

Was it her bones, or the aging brick sidewalk of this dusty old street? I barely gave it a second thought.

“Ugh…”

Xiao Long crumpled, apparently unconscious.

She’d scarcely gotten a single shot off at me.

“Hah…” I took a few deep, sharp breaths. “Well, I’m still young yet.” I chortled, and began to walk away, my breath heavy as I did so.

 _“Why would you, sweetheart, with such talent and power and finesse as you have, work_ here?”

It was a fair question, I supposed. And I hadn’t been entirely truthful about my answer. I certainly needed money, and it was true that being a Huntsman didn’t pay anywhere near as much as was appropriate for the importance and risk of the work being done. But this convenience store wasn’t exactly a lucrative gig either— it was just the best available alternative.

No, the truth was simple. I didn’t want to kill anyone.

Anyone else.

And especially not anyone else so close to me.

I bared my teeth, thinking about it, as anger and discord at my actions back then swept my mind.

Even so, I couldn’t bring myself to scrap Crescent Rose. It was too precious to me.

Far, far too…

 _Why?_ I thought, my emotions beginning to get the better of me. _Why did I… why did I let it… why…_

_FSHHHHH_

A sound like a gas leak erupted from behind me, and a SHOT rang out.

As I was lost in thought, my reaction was too slow to activate Petal Burst in time.

_pierce._

My skin ruptured, and blood spilled out of my left shoulder.

“Lethal rounds, right?” Xiao Long called out. “Luckily for you, I’m not out to kill tonight, Ruby Rose.”

I turned, reluctantly lifting Crescent Rose and preparing to return fire—

But all my Dust ammunition was gone from my pockets,

And Xiao Long was _on_ fire.

“Ouch!” I cried, my left shoulder bones impeding my use of the weapon.

She’d known I was left-handed. She’d planned this. She’d planned this this way. Her Semblance…

“My Semblance?” She smirked once again. “Nothing special. Not like yours, Ruby Rose.”

Flaming sunflower hair sparking above her head, Yang Xiao Long raised her right fist and dashed towards me at an unbelievable pace. Her knuckles collided with my chest, and my body was hurled nearly fifty feet in the other direction as Crescent Rose slipped from my fingers.

And with a hauntingly close, bone-crunching _shhck,_ as blood spilled from my shoulder, my vision faded.

* * *

“Nice work, kiddo,” Roman Torchwick said, pleased with my handiwork. The prodigy inventor Ruby Rose lay, bandaged and stable, handcuffed to a nearby hospital bed.

The Crescent Rose, still unfolded in scythe form, sat atop a table, awaiting examination. We still needed Ruby to tell us exactly how it worked, how to use it, and how we could break it down and recreate it, so we could build upon and improve her design.

With an army of these things, it would be beyond trivial to exterminate the Grimm, and take the Kingdoms.

“It’s a real beauty, isn’t it?” Torchwick snickered. “To think of the returns we’ll make off of selling these babies! Once there’s more of them, I mean.”

I scowled. “That weapon is not for your profit, Torchwick. We're revolutionaries, not salesmen.”

He seemed amused, cynically so. “Sure, sure. Revolution is ours, of course! As long as we’re all willing to pay.”

I said nothing, and turned towards the window. A crowd of restless Grimm outside, seeking prey. My view of them was partially obscured by clouds of cold, dark soot. Toxic, Black Dust. The only variety of Dust that was deadly to humans.

The Dust of Grimm.


	3. Investigator, Hospital

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yang reveals some of her past to Ruby, while an out of work P.I. is met by a surprise visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I wrote this well enough. I had a bunch of ideas for what to put here and while not all of them tied together I think enough of it works. I hope you all enjoy what I came up with.
> 
> tw; a transgender person is misgendered in this chapter (unintentionally, by someone who doesn't know they're trans), be aware of that if that might be a trigger for you.

I lay, flat, in an impression in the snow, staring upwards at the Dust-choked skies. Winged Grimm flocked above and encircled my position like vultures. They didn’t seem to notice me, not that I would much care if they had. At this point in my life, I thought, after having gone through so much in such a short time, I had well beyond earned death.

I enjoyed my job— or at least I had, once, but was it really worth it anymore? It was rising every day, to face an unconquerable avalanche of monsters, for so little pay and hardly any recognition beyond the individual people you were lucky enough to manage to rescue along the way. A Sisyphean task, to sustain a life that wasn’t getting better, to hold out for something better that seemed perpetually just out of reach, all for a rigged system that would never be pleased, a broken world that would never be repaired.

All for the Kingdoms. Well, really only one kingdom. All subservient to…

I coughed a cold, icy cough, as my lungs began to contract under the cold.

I was barely good enough to be a Huntress. I was hardly good enough to be a woman. All of my life, I’d been…

“Just… floating…”

I whispered softly, closing my eyes and waiting for the cold to claim my body.

My incomplete, hacked together, half-woman, half-animal body— my pride, my joy, my burden, my shame.

The snow would swallow it all, freeing me at last.

I stared up into the sky, and there, just out of view, at the peak of the mountain. I saw _it_ , the tip of its towers, poking through the whirlwind of snow and Dust.

“The Ice Queen’s castle…”

I laughed. The woman I wished vengeance on. Her power over this nation, this world. Her fortified dwelling, protected by an avalanche of security and soldiers, to say nothing of the likelihood of being buried by a literal avalanche on the way up. So close, yet so utterly unreachable.

I kept on laughing, as the cold encroached ever closer upon my chest. As dislodged snow fell onto me, covering my face, my laugh turned into a cackle. The ice sinking into my mouth, suffocating me, I reached outwards towards the castle tower.

_“Schnee…!”_

* * *

I woke suddenly, my body tingling with freezer burn— or so I imagined for a moment. This could not be the case. The climate here in Mistral was boiling hot, and my apartment felt like an oven. Saving up for an A/C felt about as Sisyphean a task as killing the last Grimm in Remnant.

Crammed into each of the four corners of my room were all of my possessions: a few books, an empty wine glass, some trash. And my weapon, Gambol Shroud, folded flat upon the floor. And all of them, partially buried by piles of my clothes. Jeans, shirts, blouses, skirts, dresses, undergarments, and socks.

My eyes following the trail of bedlam that made up my home, my attention was suddenly drawn to an old, torn photograph on the floor. A photo of me, Miss Schnee, and my long gone partner and beloved, Ilia Amitola.

“Schnee…”

It had been only a few years since I’d met Miss Schnee, however briefly. Since I'd been employed by her. Since I'd come to hate her. And years fewer, since I lost Ilia. But it all felt like a lifetime ago.

A lifetime, since I lost my Huntsman license, for what I did to him.

It was illegal for anyone without hunting licenses to draw weapons in public, so it wasn’t as if Gambol Shroud was useful to me any longer. But…

I rose, got dressed, sheathed the weapon behind my back, and put on my overcoat. As I moved to the door, I spotted a small black cap on the floor.

Right. My cap. How could I forget.

I gingerly lifted my cap from the floor and placed it over my ears. Now, I was ready to go to the office.

“Well, I’m off.”

* * *

I came to, in a large, dimly lit, room. Upon the walls hung numerous tools and some partially dismantled weapons and weapon parts. It looked like it had once been a hospital, but if so, it had apparently since been converted into a workshop; presumably for repairing weapons from the looks of things. Supporting this suspicion was the fact that I had been handcuffed to a hospital bed, and my wounds from the fight with Xiao Long had been tended to.

Pieces of gun, sword, and gadget mechanisms were strewn about the floor, and off in the corner stood an eccentric looking man with a white coat and a bowler hat sitting atop his bright orange hair. A red tipped cane, presumably belonging to him, lay against the wall nearby. He was bent over a workbench, making semi-quiet, puzzled “hmm,” “huh,” and “HM!” sounds. It seemed he was working on something.

I squinted, and my vision gradually cleared.

The thing the orange haired man was working on… was Crescent Rose.

“Hey.”

The man turned to face me.

Awkwardly raising my hands as high as I could while handcuffed, I pointed apprehensively at Crescent Rose. “That’s mine.”

“Hey, you’re awake!” He beamed brightly at me. His smile was transparently calculated to charm, like a robber trying to smooth talk his way through holding up a cash register. Like Xiao Long had behaved towards me last night, I supposed, but far less authentic. “How about you tell me how to open this thing up, Little Miss Inventor?”

I frowned. “Why would I tell you how to dismantle my weapon?”

“There’s a lot of money in it!” He promised. “Just trust me. We’ll have a grand old time with all of—”

“Perhaps, Torchwick, if there is so much money in Ruby Rose's weapon, you should use your precious 'innovation' to fashion yourself a fascimile- _on your own time_.”

The door to the exam room/workshop swung open as Xiao Long entered the room, dressed in some casual attire. “The terms of our partnership do not entail harassing our honored guest for the sake of your unrelated business ventures.”

“Right, right.” The man— Roman Torchwick, I surmised —rolled his eyes. “Sure, we'll go along with your stupid rules, kid.”

“If you’ll excuse us, please.”

Torchwick stood up and sauntered theatrically out of the workshop. He walked strangely, ever so slightly off balance, as if to pretend he actually needed the cane.

Xiao Long turned her attention to me. “Please excuse the—”

“Hey, kid!” Torchwick suddenly shouted at Xiao Long and he rudely reentered the makeshift workshop. “I just now remembered. Why didn’t you bring back any of the money from the store?”

“That wasn’t the mission.” Xiao Long looked quite irked at the interruption. “I thought I told you. My objective was to recover Ruby Rose and her weapon, and nothing more. The robbery was a diversion, a farce. Mere theatrics, much like you and your nonsense brand of for-profit anarchism.”

“Aw, but Yang, you know how much I like profit, darling,” Torchwick said, curtsying sardonically. “You could’ve at least brought back a few fistfuls of change. Besides, we’ll need that money for your little army, won’t we?”

“Even if I had wanted to by that point, the fight caused far too much commotion. Surely the police had been called once I had subdued Miss Rose. My priority was a swift extraction of the target. Had she come willingly,” Xiao Long glared at me, then at Torchwick, “perhaps I would have indeed brought you some _profit.”_

Torchwick huffed, but seemed unsure of any way to refute Xiao Long’s justification. Without another word, he turned and exited again, with his strange, imbalanced walk.

“As I was saying. You’ll have to excuse appearances. We are… well, frankly disinterested in appearing respectable. I hope you don’t mind.” Xiao Long placed a cigar between her teeth, and lit it with a small flash of flame dust from her gauntlet.

“I do _quite_ mind being handcuffed to an examination table,” I hissed at Xiao Long. “What is this place anyway?”

“Used to be a hospital, but… it’s been closed.” She stared, forlorn, towards the floor. “I used to work here.”

“As a… doctor?”

Xiao Long was silent.

“No.”

_“As a Huntress.”_

* * *

**Five years ago**

Every hall and room was full of beds. My fellow hunters, Nora Valkyrie, Jaune Arc, and I, rushed about tending to the injured. We were working from a rapidly depleting stock of medical supplies, with no certainty of when more would come. Many had died, and surely many more would die despite our efforts— but we had to try our very best. We owed it to the Valean citizens we had sworn to protect, and to this world, to save all the lives we could.

“Steady now,” I spoke softly, to an unconscious middle-aged woman, as Jaune rushed over and healed her with his Semblance. We were lucky to have him, as his unique power and its capacity to heal was a great boon to us, but he was only one person, and we had so many patients being brought to us on an hourly basis.

I checked the woman’s wrist— barely a pulse. “Jaune!” I said, urgently. “We’re losing her! Push harder!”

“I’m trying!” Jaune closed his eyes, firmly pushing his hands into the woman’s chest to perform CPR, while trying, as best he could, to sustain his Aura.

“1, 2, 3, CLEAR!” Nora shouted from across the hall, as electricity pulsed from her palms into the chest of another patient whose heart had apparently stopped. The patient barely moved, and she repeated the action a moment later. “Come on now… _don’t die on me!”_

Despite the monotony of the death and injury we had seen today, the tension in the room was perpetually palpable. None of us wanted to see even one more body go cold today. No one should have ever had to die here. But…

Suddenly, the sky rumbled.

“Uh… CLEAR!” Nora shouted anxiously, defibrillating the patient once more. They did not move one single bit. “Come on, come on, come on, come on…”

An awful piercing shriek rang through the building. It was coming from outside.

And I knew that sound all too well.

“Grimm… Nevermore… Shit!” My eyes widened in panic. “Jaune! Heal faster!”

“I-I can only heal so fast!” Jaune protested, also obviously panicking. “I’m…”

Another awful, degrading caw.

The woman slowly opened her eyes.

“Oh…” she blinked. “Are you… a Huntsman?”

“She’s not completely healed…” Jaune told me, nervously. “If I stop, she might just—”

I heard the flap of wings. It was close.

“We have to take out that thing.”

Nora, her attention taken away from her so far fruitless effort to revive her patient, looked up at the window and screamed.

Its beady, gargantuan, red eye stared right at us, before swiftly gliding away into the clouds.

 _“NOW!”_ I let go of the now barely conscious woman. “Or we lose them all!”

Nora looked back at the patient she had been trying to revive— a teenage boy, his heart gone from an earlier shock. She was shattered, but there was nothing we could do now. Only save who was left.

We, all three of us, turned and rushed to the roof to defend the hospital, leaving our patients behind.

* * *

“We can’t let it near the patients!” Nora yelled, as she, Jaune, and I rushed to the roof to confront the monster now assailing the hospital. “Jaune, back us up!”

“Right!” Just as our strategy dictated, Jaune placed his hands on Nora’s shoulder and began to charge her.

The power of my Ember Celica’s bursts of fire, equal to (or, more likely greater than) that of a medium-sized hand cannon, hurled me high through the air above the enormous Nevermore swooping through the sky. I fell down, then fired again with my right hand, springboarding off of the hospital roof and sending me flying towards the beast.

 _“Yang!”_ shouted Nora. “Keep its mouth open!” She readied her weapon, Magnhild, which was presently in its first of two configurations, that of a hammer. Jaune, meanwhile, stood by her side, using his Aura Amp to charge Nora’s Semblance, High Voltage. She radiated ever brighter as he did so, like a double A battery being fed all the power of a nuclear reactor.

I eagerly obliged, as the grand old bird snatched me in its beak and pushed down tightly, only to be met with resistance from both head and toe. Its enormous coal black uvula dangled before me as it sucked air in with enormous force, threatening to gobble me whole. Fighting back with fiery Dust shots (which hardly seemed to faze the creature) I attempted to swerve its head in the direction of Nora.

A hot-blooded cry of power resounded from within Nora as she smashed Magnhild into the roof— it was ever resistant to punishment from our weapons —to propel herself high into the skies. Once in the air, she switched Magnhild to its grenade launcher and used it to propel herself vertically towards myself and the Nevermore.

With a determined, furious expression on her face, Nora extended her crackling arm towards me.

At that, I loosened my left hand from the tip of the terrible bird’s beak, and extended it towards Nora’s. My body began to slip, putting me in ever greater danger of being devoured alive, but now, it didn’t matter.

Nora and I only just touched fingers, before they slipped apart. Ever briefly, but just briefly enough. A mutual spark alighted between our skins.

And with that contact, the circuit was complete. I Burned— with all the joules and watts and volts, and whatever else, coursing through my bones as the Nevermore closed its beak around me, and swallowed me whole.

A harsh rupture formed in its throat almost immediately, as I heard Nora, shouting with all the fury of a goddess, crashing back onto the hospital roof. I fired Dust into the beast’s stomach for good measure, and punched with fiery, electric power— the signature team attack of me and Nora, our Firecracker.

The Nevermore screeched in pain as it exploded around me in a violent, sparkling constellation of flames and sparks. I fell headfirst towards Earth, but landed feet first on the hospital roof. The impact of my fall had a uniquely immense degree of force behind it, as a huge dent was created in the roof of the hospital when I landed. A shockwave sent winds through the air around me, just barely avoiding knocking Nora and Jaune off of the roof.

“Whew…” Jaune sighed with relief. “I always get super nervous when you do that, Yang!”

“Jaune, you need to hurry up and tend to our patients,” I urged. “More are on the way. Both patients and Grimm.”

“Of course, and more are coming!” Nora retorted, looking distressed. “Why are there only three of us doing all this? Why are there not more hunters assigned to helping us defend this place? We’re spread too thin!”

I frowned.

“That is strange,” I agreed. “You would think that the Council would care more for the lives we’re rescuing and safeguarding in this place, but…”

“No time to worry about it now,” Jaune said. “I’ll go check on everyone. You two stay up here and watch for more!” He hurried downstairs to the hospital rooms.

“Wait!” Nora called, her hand outstretched in Jaune’s direction. “What if we need yo-”

“We’ll make do without him,” I insisted, grabbing and pulling her away. “We’re a good team.”

Nora looked uncertain for a moment— but then nodded.

“Right.”

She stood, and looked towards the skies, which, absent the omnipresent clouds of thick Grimm Dust swirling above, were completely clear. There seemed to be no immediate threat of further Grimm attacks.

“Do you ever get the sense,” Nora wondered, “that we aren’t given enough in life? Even though we do so much? And our jobs are supposedly so essential to protecting others? And yet why…”

She looked pensive and distant.

“In the old days… I hear. Hunters were respected more. Paid more. Weren’t they?” She looked at me curiously, with a soft, subdued smile. “Your dad said so, huh?”

I pondered this a moment.

“Yeah.”

“It really feels like we’re pulling all the weight of the world sometimes. Just us little hunters.” Nora giggled, with a faraway, dismally bittersweet sense of nostalgia in her cracking voice. “Yang and Nora, and Jaune and…”

“And Ren, off on his own little mission, protecting the villages.”

“Yeah, huh.” It’d been a few months since Ren left to aid his people. Nora had been quite distant, ever since his leaving. “I miss him.”

“I know,” I said, kindly patting Nora’s head. “I know.”

Nora’s jet pink hair was soft and loose, and easily touslable. I enjoyed touching her hair, quite a lot. It almost made me want to touch the rest of her, but…

Well, Ren.

“Do you think we’ll be okay?” Nora asked. “That we’ll make it out? And… stuff? It’s been… so, so long… and we still haven’t… they still haven’t… really… helped.”

“They’ll come around,” I assured her. “They can’t ignore this increase in Grimm attacks. Eventually, they’ll have to listen to us. We’ll get the help we need.”

A skeptical tear rolled down Nora’s cheek.

“I sure hope so, Yang,” she said, choking a bit. “For Ren’s sake… and ours. I hope so.”

* * *

“Our hope,” I finished, “was severely misplaced.”

Ruby Rose looked crestfallen at all this. “I had no idea that… that it was all that bad…”

“Oh, you have _no idea.”_

“Why did you lose your hunting license?”

I paused a moment, wondering how to word this in the simplest way.

“I sidestepped rules, to get the job done. Rescued some people who the state decided didn’t need rescuing. Killed some Grimm in areas that were deemed off limits. Because nature. Or whatever.” I growled. “My ass… there’s nothing _natural_ about the Grimm. They have to… they _must_ be exterminated… hunted to extinction. Or else…”

Ruby seemed to understand. Her face was cold and conflicted, but empathetic.

“And you heard of me, and my… my blossoming, slumbering genius, I guess, and…”

“Yeah.”

“Why…” she wondered. “Why are they underfunding the hunters? And our defenses? Why aren’t they taking the Grimm seriously?” She looked genuinely puzzled. “What do they gain?”

“I don’t know the specifics, but it’s always the same, with every power. Always has been, throughout our history. Always the same.” I paced to the window once more. “Power. It’s always about power. And maintaining it, and expanding it.”

“But… why?”

“Doesn’t matter. Could be afraid. Could be greedy. I don’t really give much of a shit, personally,” I returned, spitting the words blithely. “I’m just here to take it all back and tear it all down.”

A fire boiled in my face as I said this, making direct eye contact with Ruby Rose.

“Well… okay. Okay. I’ll do whatever you ask me.”

I blinked in surprise. “You will?”

“You went far enough to kidnap me, so it’s not like I have a choice, right, Xiao Long? Uh… Yang, I guess? If we’re going to be working together.” She attempted to extend her hand, but was hampered by the handcuffs on her wrist.

“Um… would you mind unlocking these?”

I sighed and shook her hand.

“Ow!” Ruby winced, as her wrist grazed the edge of the cuffs. “I said to—”

_Click._

“There. Now if you’re really serious about cooperating, Ruby Rose. Do you by any chance have the schematics for your Crescent?”

* * *

In stark contrast to my apartment, my office was a generously sized space; air conditioned, sparsely decorated, and wide open. It was on the fifth floor of a cheap business complex: Nothing fancy, but the conditions in which I worked were at least more favorable conditions in which I lived. Were it not against the policy of this place, I would surely be sleeping on the floor here, instead.

As a bonus, a coffee machine sat on a counter in the hallway. My Faunus metabolism did not take kindly to coffee, but given the late hours I worked, I needed to keep myself awake and alert _somehow_.

An old computer sat on my desk, perfectly matching my outdated, now two generations slow model of Scroll. Apart from that and the file cabinets built into my desk, containing all previous case files (very few, really), I had no other possessions. Honestly, it was perhaps a blessing that I didn’t get contracted often, given that I could only _just_ afford more binders to hold more records of future cases.

I stared blankly at the trite motivational posters, with their sugar-saturated imagery and tired, cheesy phrases, affixed to my wall. I’d put them there in the dim hopes they’d keep my spirits up as work was slow, but unfortunately they didn’t do much for me. Every day, I considered tearing them down, but they were now just as much a part of my starkly barren workspace as the coffee machine, or anything else.

I sighed.

“Another day. Waiting for nothing and no one.”

I wondered, as I heated a cup of instant potatoes in the microwave, when I would have to get a real job. One that paid. And preferably one that didn’t consist entirely of standing around waiting for work to appear on my desk.

Well, then again, I supposed that that very thing was most “real jobs” these days anyway. The economic downturn caused by the Grimm attacks had not been kind to anyone, and the weight of its impacts were by no means limited to freelancers such as myself.

I sipped some coffee and began to chow down on yet another cheap microwave lunch on yet another weekday.

Delicious, of course.

“Delicious.”

 _“Delicious,_ Mr. Belladonna?”

I choked on my coffee.

It had been so long since someone had come to my office seeking my services, I’d forgotten I was supposed to be a man.

Hurriedly straightening my cap and assuming my “regular” voice, I set down my food and drink and tried to appear businesslike.

My door, with its clear opaque glass panel, labeled:

**BLAKE BELLADONNA**

**PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR FOR HIRE**

Swung wide open, and inside stepped what was hopefully a new customer (meaning, a new paycheck).

An opportunistic looking tall young man wearing a light green suit entered the room. He was very conventionally handsome— unlike me —with jet black hair, moderately tan skin, and bright, attractive green eyes. His demeanor was composed and sensitive, very masculine— again, unlike me. This man, next to me, looked more normal than normal. I, my face, my body… I felt abnormal, implausible, undecipherable. Barely genderable. But this guy…

He was a clean cut gentleman. No ifs ands or buts about it.

“Delicious, that is not a word I would put to… Schnee Instant Dust Potatoes.” The man chuckled. “And that coffee… it looks quite stale. Might I take a sip?” He extended an open palm.

I handed him the cup. “Be my guest.”

He took a sip, spat, and immediately laughed. “Ahahahaha… it’s _awful!”_

I furrowed my eyebrows.

The man continued laughing for a few good more seconds, before ceasing and recomposing himself.

“Or perhaps I am simply spoiled. You see, we drink only the finest of brews up at Schnee Manor.”

“...Schnee?” My eyes widened. “As in…”

“Oh, indeed. Gosh, have I come a long way to seek… you, Mr. Belladonna.” He smiled earnestly.

I winced at being misgendered a second time.

I wanted nothing more than to be recognized for who I really was— but it was utterly infeasible in this world. Too great a risk. Always had been. Staying in the closet was safer.

Still, I hated it. It made me so uneasy, dissonant. Distant, wanting to not acknowledge myself, the image I projected to most people. The thought of being exposed, as a fraud, a liar, an intruder in my own body, made my skin crawl.

Like when _he_ found out.

I had barely escaped alive.

I swept that memory from my mind. I couldn’t lose control. This was business. I was to play the part.

I took my coffee back and casually had another sip. “What’s the trouble?”

The man extended a hand once again.

“My name is Oscar Pine. I’ve come to seek your services on behalf of one Weiss Schnee.”

I gasped, my initial shock only renewed by those words.

“You can’t be serious.” I nearly dropped my coffee, luckily narrowly avoiding staining the rug.

“Th-The… _The Ice Queen?!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um, I should really drop this for a hot minute and finish editing that video or writing that other video  
> brain procrastination bad


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